


And So The Cycle Continues

by aliencircus



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang and Roku still make an appearance, And Iroh is now Zuko's nephew, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Features characters with and descriptions of ptsd anxiety panic attacks etc, Gen, Incredibly slow burn Zukka because I have no self control, It's mostly Gen though otherwise, Katara and Sokka really aren't sure what to make of him, M/M, Work may occasionally take a dark or violent turn but nothing too graphic, Zuko and Azula are siblings across time, Zuko goes from angsty to awkward, Zuko is born as the Avatar and all the changes that come with that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencircus/pseuds/aliencircus
Summary: In which Kyoshi lives a little longer than before, Roku’s birth passes uneventfully, and Sozin’s eldest son, a boy by the name of Zuko, is named Avatar.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	1. A Different Boy In The Iceberg

Sokka and Katara were in trouble.

There was no good reason for them to be in trouble, by Sokka’s thinking. They had been sent out to catch something, and they  _ had. _ So what if they came back with a dragon instead of a gull-tuna?

Everyone turned to stare as they rode into the village, all shocked into silence. An unnatural quiet had been laid over the village. Katara suppressed a shiver.

“Hello kids,” Gran Gran called up to them in a flat tone, somehow managing to look on with perfect impassivity, even as the dragon let out a  _ whuff _ next to her head.

“Gran Gran, you wouldn’t believe what we found,” Katara began, sliding down to the ground, “We stumbled across this iceberg and— Sokka? Are you coming?”

“Um,” Sokka glanced down wordlessly at the prone figure riding tandem with him. Then, down at the ground, more than six feet away. “How do I get  _ him _ down?”

Katara took a step forward, then stopped, glancing between her brother, the boy, and the snow. The siblings shared a long moment of uncertainty. The rest of the village had begun to gather, suspiciously regarding the orange scaled beast that had settled in the middle of their home. Finally, an idea occurred to Katara.

“Hey, girl… Can you help us out?” She approached slowly, holding a gloved hand out to the dragon’s snout, every muscle in her arm tense. Her vast golden eye turned on Katara, pupil fluttering as it focused on her hand, then her face. With a rumbling purr, the dragon shoved her head up against the girl, nearly pushing her off her feet, then dropped to the snow with a resounding  _ thoom _ .

“Yep. Okay.” Sokka slid down her side, gracelessly dragging the unconscious figure behind him. He handed him off to Katara then because she needed to pull her weight, not because his arms and legs were shaking.

Through the power of teamwork, they got their new friend to the igloo. Gran Gran, expression unreadable, stood aside.

—————

“—and I was trying to get the umiak through an ice field, because  _ she _ was  _ distracting me!” _

“You— How dare you! If you weren’t such an idiot—”

“Sokka. Go and ask Yura if she has any more of that salve.”

—————

“Will he… live?”

Gran Gran glanced over at where Katara stood, knuckles white as she gripped the roll of bandages. She shoved down the pang in her chest. “The burn is severe, but not life-ending. Bring those here before you ruin them.”

Katara kneeled beside her, pressing the roll into her grandmother’s hand before resting her hands on the bedside. She frowned down at the now blanketed figure of the boy. “When we found the iceberg, after I broke it open, he walked up out of it, then just… Fell. If we didn’t have the dragon’s help, I don’t know what we would have done,” Gran Gran didn’t glance up from her work. “What happened to him?” Katara asked, to no one in particular.

“She didn’t have any, but I asked around, and Ticasuk had some!” Sokka entered the room with a shout, presenting the container of salve triumphantly before dropping it into his grandmother’s out-stretched hand. “Has he died yet?”

If looks could kill, well. Katara would be an only child. Sokka shrugged at her, turning away to warm his hands by the fire. “It’s not like we can keep him or anything,” he grumbled.

“Would you please just  _ shut up,  _ Sokka?”

“What? Look”—he seized the red shirt that was drying by the fire, brandishing it at his sister—”at this! He’s  _ Fire Nation!” _

“I know that! I’m just trying to say—”

“I don’t even  _ know _ what this is but,” Sokka paused to take in a breath. He had dropped the shirt back on the hearth, now focused on the metal headpiece Gran Gran had pulled from his hair when they laid him down. “It’s got little fire shapes and everything!”

Gran Gran stopped from her work, sitting up straight. “Both of you, outside.”

That immediately cut the argument short, both muttering a quick apology on their way out the door.

“Wait,” she barked, and Sokka halted, silhouetted in the doorway. “Leave the headpiece here.” There was the tinkling of metal on hard-packed ice, then footsteps as he scuttled guiltily outside.

—————

“Nice.” 

“Whatever. Hey—!” Sokka took off running. Apparently the village kids and dragon were becoming fast friends. Much to the detriment of his well-built watchtower.

—————

“I know a lot of things. I have  _ seen _ a lot of things, over the years. Happens when you travel,” Gran Gran spoke as she worked, gently applying salve to his wound. It was a big burn, ragged, masking half of his face. Still red and angry. It couldn’t have been much more than a week old, and was definitely untreated. She continued to speak. “And I travelled across the entire world.

“So, I’ve seen the wounds this war leaves. Those kids… Well, they’ve seen too much. Far more than any child should see. But they don’t know much about medicine. They don’t know how long it takes for an unconscious person to wake up. I do.

“Take as much time as you need. Just remember, you are going to have to wake up at some point.”

She stood, turned, walked away. Paused to warm her hands by the fire, flexing the feeling into her stiff fingers. All things in due time.

Behind her, the prince turned toward the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. He shut his eyes as tight as he could, trying to ignore the lancing pain across some parts of his face, the numbness in others.

He did not want to be awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time posting work here so I'll accept concrit, but be gentle. Also we don't do beta in this house so if there's little mistakes, then there's mistakes. Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated!
> 
> Also the premise of this is based roughly off of a tumblr post I saw months back. If anyone finds it, I'd be more than willing to credit the op for inspiration!


	2. A Hundred-Year-Old Tale, Remembered

The fire had burned low over the span of the night.

Zuko could feel it wane. He couldn’t see it, not for all of the bandages and salves, but he could feel it tugging at him. He could feel the flames still lick across his skin. Sighing, he flipped onto his back.

He wished, by Agni, he wished that he could sleep. That he could slip into that soft space, into unconsciousness, but there was no comfort to be found. When was the last time that he ate? When was the last time he drank?

Zuko thrashed, feeling the blankets seize around his limbs, tangling. Like they knew, like they intended to help. Or like they intended to hold him down.

Thrusting his fist forward, a burst of air sent the bundle of pelts flying across the room. As they settled to the floor, all of Zuko’s panic and anger drained from him, exhaustion taking their place. He flopped back down onto the cot.

How much could one body take before it gave out?

—————

Zuko’s sixteenth birthday was a grand event. His father, Fire Lord Sozin, wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Crown Prince Zuko,” the man bowed deeply and respectfully, “I present to you, for our gift, the latest clutch from the Royal Hatchery.”

He stepped aside, motioning toward the large, ornately carved trunk carried by servants. Stepping forward, they set it before the prince, the gold inlaid in the lid glittering in the lantern light. Needing no invitation, and unaware of his father’s critical gaze, Zuko ran down the steps as fast as his robes would allow.

Inside, nestled amongst a padding of straw and wool, were eggs. A whole clutch of them, in hues of shimmering indigo, deep verdant green, and buried deep within, a single vermillion egg sat. Zuko fished it out with careful hands, cradling it gently as he held it up for inspection.

“A wise choice, my prince. The red dragon is said to bring great fortune to its master.” The man spoke with easy praise, but he no longer had Zuko’s attention. Instead, he turned it gently, watching as the light of the midday sun danced off its reflective shell like sparks off a flame. This one was… familiar. Right.

“Thank you, dragonmaster,” he said, giving a slight bow. The man straightened up suddenly, looking shocked as Zuko made his way back up the steps.

“My… my prince! We would be more than happy to take your egg back to the hatchery with us!” Zuko stopped halfway up the steps, pausing to give the man a thoughtful look.

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” He said, smiling faintly, then returned to his seat.

The Fire Lord’s family sat together, above the crowd, watching the festivities take place. As the dragonmaster and his servants retreated with the remaining eggs, Zuko took the time to wrap his egg into the folds of his robes, tucked safely in his lap.

“I want a dragon!” His little brother keened, leaning over from the opposite side of their parents. Their mother lay a gentle hand on his head, speaking in hushed tones.

“Quiet, Azulon. You will get one on your sixteenth birthday as well.”

Sozin looked down in contemplative silence at his eldest son, who had taken to gently petting the egg’s shell.

Zuko swore he could feel the shifting of the life within.

When the sun touched the horizon, and shadows danced in the streets, the Fire Sages arrived.

Immediately, a hush fell over the crowd. The sages approached without any sense of hurry, hands folded into their sleeves, crimson robes trailing behind them. Zuko, his mother, and his little brother leaned forward in a confused greeting. Sozin did not.

“We have come today,” the foremost sage began, voice resonating across the grounds, “to announce the identity of the Avatar.”

“Avatar Zuko, it is our greatest honor to serve you.” The sages, nay, the entire crowd fell to a bow, foreheads pressed to the ground in utmost respect. Zuko shot to his feet, cradling the egg against his stomach, just below the ribs. There had to be some sort of mistake. This was a boy who struggled to bend his native element, not a prodigy of all four.

The shadow of a figure appeared at the edge of his vision.

“This is great news, Prince Zuko,” Sozin said evenly, laying a hand on his son’s shoulder.

It was. So why didn’t it feel like it?

—————

“Sit up, boy. I need to get a look at your wounds.”

Zuko complied. The old woman was abrasive, but she knew what she was doing.

“You should try throwing your blankets across the room less,” she said, peeling back his bandages, “because I doubt you want to catch cold on top of everything else.”

He looked down and away, shoulders tensed. The sooner she stopped poking at him, the better. Apparently, though, his silence did not bother her.

“A little better than yesterday, at least. I doubt you’ll get away without scarring, though.” She patted the bandages back down, taking a moment to regard the sullen boy. “Should I even ask?”

Zuko shook his head.

The woman scoffed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

She straightened up, rolled her shoulders, then made her way to the other side of the room. “Either way, I’m going to have to cut that hair of yours. Last thing you want is hair getting in the wound, or, spirits forbid, healing into it.”

He whipped around to face her, the motion so sudden and violent that he made himself dizzy. The woman, whether oblivious or unphased, returned to his side, resting a shaving kit beside him.

She couldn’t— He wouldn’t let her— But she  _ had _ to. He needed her to. He dug his nails into his palms.

“Help me here, boy, and lean down.”

He bowed his head.

—————

Flames lit up the courtyard.

Zuko feinted left, hoping his opponent’s reflexes would work in his favor, granting him an opening to strike. His lunge forward, though, was blocked by a well-placed blast, sending him stumbling back.

His opponent took advantage of the clumsy retreat. Strike after strike, narrowly dodged, hardly gave Zuko a moment to breathe, let alone adjust his stance or make a plan of attack. Swinging his arm out in a wide arc, he let loose a lash of flame. His opponent stopped, planting his feet, pushing his arms up and out to disperse the flame. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Zuko pressed the offense. Breathe in, breathe out, strike. Again. And again. Each fireball was easily deflected, but his opponent was on the defense now. That is, he was defending, until he ducked below the last blast, closing in on Zuko, who threw his arms up in a defensive position.

They stood for a long moment, forearm to forearm, each watching the other with a close eye. They were too close to get in a proper strike, and the first to retreat would leave himself open to an attack. It was a stalemate. They both nodded in recognition.

“That was some fine bending, Avatar Zuko,” his opponent said as they stepped apart, relaxing their stances.

“Thank you, Master Roku,” Zuko responded, and the two bowed respectfully to each other, meeting each other with matching grins when they rose.

“Such formality,” Roku laughed, “Where is the disrespectful, shouting boy I remember so well?”

“He is gone… Now I am the Avatar, guardian of peace! And justice!” Zuko put on a performance as he spoke, grand motions and silly voice included. As he turned, though, his legs were greeted by an excited and scaly obstacle, sending the World Spirit tumbling to the dirt.

“It seems that becoming the Avatar has done little to improve your balance,” Roku leaned over him from a safe distance, narrowly avoiding the tangle of arms and legs that was currently attempting to wrestle a dragon and failing.

“Shut up,” he barely managed to get out between laughs, shielding his face from the dragon’s gentle blows. “You don’t get to spar with us anymore, Anzu!”

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

The two jumped to their feet. Anzu sat, upper half coiled in Zuko’s arms, lower half still flopped in the dirt. She let out a huff of annoyance at the interruption. Before them stood a servant, the Fire Lord, and between them, an orange-clad, narrowly built man with a bald head and tattoos.  _ Airbending _ tattoos.

“Prince— Avatar Zuko, it is my honor to introduce you to Tashi, of the Southern Air Temple,” the servant spoke.

“Your new airbending master,” Sozin followed up, smiling.

Zuko glanced from his father, to Roku, with his frown and furrowed brow, to Tashi, who looked on with his strange, serene smile. “I— Father, I have not yet mastered firebending. Is it not too soon to begin airbending?”

“Nonsense!” Sozin’s voice was jovial, overly loud. “You can never learn too much! Besides, Tashi here is a great airbender. He has done us all a great favor by coming here.”

And so, Zuko greeted his new master with all the manners he had been taught, though he did neglect to set his dragon down to do so.

For all the formality, he missed the shadowed glance Roku sent toward Sozin.

There was much he would come to learn.

—————

Locks of hair fell in polite piles around Zuko, settling far too gently for how much each one hurt.

The only sound in the igloo was the snipping of the scissors. They were a small pair, unfit for this task, meant only for trimming. And yet, with each closing of the blades, another piece of him fell away.

He kept his head bowed, eyes pressed shut. When had it become so hard to breathe? Each breath in felt like an effort, like the air couldn’t make it to the bottom of his lungs. With every shallow breath, he felt a restlessness rear up, made the effort to push it back down. The fire rippled at the edge of his consciousness, snapping and flaring with his own anxiety.

The woman wielded a new weapon now, a razor, reducing what little remained of his hair to stubble. With careful movements but a shaky hand, she made passes along the border of his wound, but he did not react. Barely flinched. Certainly did not respond.

He knew what happened when he acted out.

—————

“You’re far too… Focused. Certain. You’ll never airbend like that,” Tashi droned, circling around Zuko as he made adjustments to his form. Zuko wasn’t sure whether it was the strange, airy monotone that the airbender spoke in, or the man’s inability to speak plainly about anything that annoyed him more.

“Isn’t the point of doing these exercises to focus on them?”

“The  _ point _ , Avatar Zuko, is to be like the winds. This is a dance, not a fight.”

“Wh— You are literally teaching me to fight!”

“Perhaps we should return to meditation. Come sit, student.”

Tashi made his way to the shade, settling down gently on the grass. Zuko dropped down with an intentional  _ thud _ beside him.

Zuko could meditate. He had been meditating all his life. Mastering breath control and a meditative calm was the most important skill a firebender could have. So, it was a little unclear to him why Tashi insisted on having him meditate so much.

That is, until he felt the sensation of cold steel against his ribs.

Everything ground to a halt. A stinging pain lit up his entire side, growing ever distant as the rest of the world pulled into terrifying focus. His eyes found Tashi’s, dark and ambivalent as always. Acting entirely on instinct, his arms thrust out, shielding him in flame, sending his attacker recoiling. Zuko’s feet met the ground, connected, then left with the rest of him.

He was airbending. And what a time to first succeed.

When Zuko finally hit the ground, some twenty feet from where he was last acquainted with it, he took off. Not a glance was spared, only action. He sprinted across the courtyard, and— Where were the guards? Where was  _ anyone? _

Footsteps thrummed behind him as he wound his way through the shadows of the palace. Each turn he made, unsure where his feet led him, he looked for salvation, found none. And at each turn, his pursuer drew ever closer.

Then, a familiar sight. One of the Fire Lord’s many chambers. And, posted outside, two guards. Zuko pushed off the ground, brought aloft by a burst of air, feeling lighter than he had ever felt before.

_ He wasn’t totally wrong,  _ Zuko thought manically,  _ This is freedom. _

With no particular grace, he pushed through the door, landed, and scrambled beneath the table in the center of the room. He emerged to the sight of his father, shocked and confused.

“Hold him!” Sozin barked. Tashi had apparently followed him in, and was rewarded for this by having his arms yanked behind his back. It looked painful.

Zuko could have sworn his arrow looked… Smudged.

“Fire Lord!” Tashi yelped, “I apologize, I—”

Those were the last words he ever spoke.

With one precise strike, the Fire Lord sentenced the would-be assassin to a wordless execution. He went up like dry grass, screaming. Zuko watched for only a moment before his father drew him close, shielding him against the sight. The doors slammed shut behind them, dropping the room into eerie silence.

“Let me get a good look at you.” Zuko was shivering, whether from adrenaline or fear, he didn’t know.

“He tried to kill me, father.” Tears poured unbidden down his cheeks.

“Sit, I need to look you over.” He complied.

Long moments passed. His chest heaved, his vision blurred, each breath sending pain lancing through his side.

He winced as his father inspected the wound.

“He didn’t succeed.” Zuko blinked rapidly, clearing his vision. His father was standing over the table now, shoulders hunched. Its surface was littered with piles of scrolls, some unfurled and some not, all marked with the symbol of the Fire Nation. On unsteady legs, he approached. His father wrapped an arm around his shoulder, allowed Zuko to lean in to his side.

“You have taken on a great responsibility as the Avatar, son. It is no surprise that it would bring you danger,” Sozin murmured, brushing his hand across the map before them. Zuko glanced down at the symbols of villages and mountain ranges for a moment before turning to look up at his father, who sighed. “Still, this brings me no particular joy.”

Sozin turned, guiding his son out toward the balcony. From here, they could see the glittering lights of Caldera, the imposing crater edge, and all of the land and sea far beyond it. The sight of it all was breathtaking, yes, but the silence that lingered between them was… Heavy. Uncomfortably so.

“It’s beautiful,” Zuko said, if only to break the silence.

“Yes,” Sozin hummed thoughtfully, “It is beautiful. Our nation is a shining beacon in this dark world, a place of wealth and prosperity. It only seems fair that we share it with the rest of the world, yes?”

The grip around his shoulder tightened. Zuko nodded, the first sparks of uncertainty flickering in his chest. His side still burned.

“It is good you think so. The Avatar before you, well. She did not think so. She spoke only of  _ balance _ , of four  _ separate _ nations. Such antiquated notions of the world. She would have rather seen the people of this world  _ suffer _ and  _ die _ before she let go of these traditions. Only I seemed to recognize that she was not fit for this modern age.”

He fell still, skin prickling. The longer he spoke, the more of an edge crept into Sozin’s voice, the more shadowed his face became.

“The spirits have taught me a valuable lesson, though, through you. The position of Avatar is a relic of an old world, one that we must move past. It is time to bring the world into a new, brighter age. No more half measures.”

He turned, then, training his cold gaze on Zuko, who, having come to realize what was being said, thrashed, pushing against the arm that contained him. Ducking down, he dodged away from his father, back into the room.

“It will be tragic news. The crown prince of the Fire Nation, the Avatar, assassinated. Killed the deceitful airbender who had been entrusted with his safety.”

“No—”

“I take no joy in this, son. But we must all make sacrifices for a better world.”

“Father, please,” Zuko’s voice cracked.

He did not react in time. Cornered, his hands rose up to protect him, failed. In an instant, he was engulfed in flame, and the world went dark.

—————

“He’s still asleep? That can’t be healthy.”

“Of course he’s not asleep. He’s been faking it the whole time!”

The two voices drifted in from the doorway, and it took Zuko a long moment to place where he was or what was happening. Of course. As soon as he fell asleep, someone came along to interrupt it.

He turned to look at them. Then turned a little more, having forgotten he only had half of his vision available.

“Told you he was faking it,” the boy said, crossing his arms. This earned him a dirty look from the girl, who began her approach.

“Ignore my brother, he’s being an idiot. How are you feeling? Any better?”

Far too quickly, she began encroaching on his space. His perception reached out of its own volition, grabbing hold of the fire, making it flare up and outwards. He flinched back, drawing the blankets up around him with shaky hands. The flame vanished, doused.

The girl had stuttered to a stop, hands raised in an almost defensive position. A bender? If so, her stance was atrocious.

“It’s okay, I don’t have to come any closer,” she shifted her weight back, away from Zuko. Hesitated. He managed to force a breath into his lungs. “Uh… My name is Katara, and my brother, the paranoid one, is Sokka. What’s yours?”

“...Zuko.”

Her face lit up. She glanced at her brother, who met her with an unimpressed look. After schooling her face back to a more serious one, she turned back.

“So, uh… Zuko. Nice to meet you,” There’s an awkward silence. “Where’re you from?”

“Nowhere,” Zuko averts his gaze.

“Do you remember how you got in that iceberg?”

He shakes his head. A lie.

“Can you tell us anything useful at all?” The boy (Sokka?) called out from across the room, voice annoyed and indignant. With his good eye, Zuko levels his best glare at him, but rather than back down, he stands up straighter, puffing out his chest.

_ Idiot, _ Zuko thinks, rolling his eyes. Rolling his eye? It’s hard to tell.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would almost think my sweet grandkids were bothering my patient, even after I told them not to,” The old woman appeared in the doorway, causing both of the siblings to nearly jump out of their skin.

“But Gran Gran, he spoke!”

“Before, or after your coming in here?”

“Well, after, but—”

“No buts, Katara. Now either of you want to serve this young man his dinner, or tend to his wounds, I would recommend doing the chores you were actually told to do.”

Zuko took the bowl of stew gratefully, watching as Katara stomped out, followed closely by her brother. The bowl, thank Agni, was warm enough to chase the chill from his hands, but smelled… Less than appealing. So, he set it in his lap, keeping a wary eye on the woman as she inspected his headpiece.

“So you  _ do _ know how to talk,” she said diplomatically.

“Of course I do!” He snapped, bristling. The woman glanced over, unphased.

“You’re just like the two of them. Opinionated, difficult. I suppose you can’t expect a teenager to be any different just because he’s a prince.”

“Wh— How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” she gave him a sly grin, “It’s just that these are the clothes of someone with money.”

Zuko huffed, staring down at his bowl.

“Fire Nation?” Her tone was suddenly very different. He nodded. “Firebender?” This silence is longer, more uncertain. He nods again.

The woman turned fully to face him, the headpiece still in her hands. Her expression is grave. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that our people have suffered much at the hands of your kind,” She approached, pressing the metal into his open hand, her easy air gone. “Just remember that despite that, we showed you kindness. Gave you medicine, care, hospitality. Whatever you do from now on, keep that in mind.”

With that, the woman vanished out the door, all the heat in the room seeming to leave with her.

What was she even talking about? Why was he being punished for it? It didn’t really matter, though, Zuko supposed. It never did. Even when he did nothing but exist, he was doing something wrong.

Pulling the blankets and pelts up over his shoulders, he set his bowl aside.

He had lost his appetite.

—————

The gentle pressure of a snout against his side.

Arms wrapped around a strong, scaly neck.

The rush of warm air around him, the beating of wings in flight.

Days blurred into one.

Pursuit, the endless pursuit of Fire Navy ships.

Pain, hunger, exhaustion.

Then finally, the cold kiss of the sea as it swallowed them whole. 

Peace.

…

…

...

No.

Not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love when your second chapter is literally 3x longer than your first chapter, and all future chapters are threatening to be much longer. And honestly, the chapter count at this point in time is a random guess. I have the sneaking suspicion that this is going to evolve into a much larger project than I originally anticipated.
> 
> Why couldn't I have just drawn a comic of one scene from this chapter and been done with it?
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism, and kudos are always appreciated!


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